Ship all the Avengers - Again
by Trickster-Prophet
Summary: There are about a billion ships in the Avengers movie. This is my attempt to sort if all out (yes, I've done this beforre on my old account - I'm trying again).
1. Tony x Phil

**A/N: Since I am a self-cristicising fool, I am basically re-writing the Ship all the Avengers fic I did sometime last year. There will be about 1000 words for each pairing, and there are 55 pairings. Wish me Luck! **

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It was a warm summer afternoon. The sun was shining, there was a light breeze blowing, at it wasn't unbearably hot. At least, that was the case outside. Of course, Agent Phil Coulson of S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't know that, as he was cooped up inside filing mission reports, something he had been doing since rather early that morning. Well, perhaps "mission reports" was the wrong term. The _things_ he had been reading through were mostly attempts at mission reports by junior agents and new recruits, as well as Barton's usual entertaining style, which involved a lot of stick figure drawings and not many actual words.

He looked up as there was a knock on his door. A young agent in a grey recruit's uniform poked her head into the room. She was small, and appeared to be Asian extraction, with prettily shaped eyes, high cheekbones and long black hair in a French braid past her waist.

"Recruit Truong sir." She said, saluting.

"At ease, Recruit." Phil told her, waving his pen dismissively, "What is it?"

"Uh, a Mr Stark is requesting to see you, Sir." She wounded worried, like she didn't know if she was to allow the aforementioned "Mr Stark" access to Phil's office. Phil sighed.

"Let him in." He crossed out a word on a report in red biro, "He'll come in weather he gets permission or not. Dismissed."

Recruit Truong saluted, turned smartly on her heel and left the room.

While he waited, Phil quickly searched through the pile of reports on his desk to find hers. It was written in neat handwriting, but near the beginning he could see some writing in another language that had been crossed out. He studied it for a moment. Vietnamese. Of course. He could see it now. Her name was a dead giveaway, naturally, he should have noticed it before, but her mention of Stark had thrown his mind off-kilter for a moment, and when it slid back onto the right track, he was thinking of Stark, not the recruit in front of him.

He was spared from reading the other, less well-written reports by the appearance of Tony Stark in his doorway. The younger man was lounging against the doorframe, hands in his pockets, grinning lazily and toying with his S.H.I.E.L.D. visitor pass thoughtfully.

"You, uh, wanted to see me, Mr Stark?" Phil said cautiously, wondering internally what Tony was doing in his office in the first place. As far as he knew, Tony and Dr Banner hadn't blown up any labs recently, Tony and Clint had stopped for the moment with their prank wars, and even Pepper didn't have any complaints about him of late. It was almost as if he had been intentionally on his best behaviour. This made Phil nervous, although he couldn't say why. Probably something to do with him being wary of Stark in general, let alone when he was acting suspiciously. Albeit suspiciously well-behaved was less worrying than it could be.

Tony smiled, a real smile, not the fake one he put on for the press and strode across the room, leaning his hip against the edge of Phil's desk. "When was the last time you went outside?" he asked abruptly.

Phil honestly thought about that for a moment. He'd been on base all week, either in his office or quarters – he was still banned from the gym until he finished physio and rehab and was cleared for vigorous activity, but at least he was alive. He hadn't exactly had a chance to go out. Not that it really mattered to him, where was he going to go? He didn't go out really, hadn't been out with anyone for a few years now, and going out on your own felt a little sad.

"A few days." He shrugged. It didn't matter, he needed to finish the reports, "Are you actually here for a reason, or just to irritate me?" He added, shooting Tony a sharp look from behind his papers.

Tony made a huffing noise, sounding distinctly unimpressed, and plucked the report neatly out of Phil's hands. The agent grabbed for it in a distinctly undignified manner, but Tony shook his head and held it behind him, grinning.

"Nope." He said firmly, "You're wasting away in here with your reports and files." He placed he report neatly out of the way on top of a filing cabinet, ignoring Phil's complaining, "Come on, we're going outside. Remember outside?"

"You don't have clearance to be in here, let alone to leave with me." Phil pointed out, choosing another report from the pile and starting to read that. Purple pen. Stick figures. Scribbles in the margins. No prizes for guessing who had written it, even though Agent Barton had neglected to write his name anywhere on the three or four sheets of paper. He rolled his eyes and considered just ignoring it; the report on the pile underneath it was written in black pen in Natasha's tidy, sloping hand, and would doubtless contain a through and detailed account of their last mission together. Come to that, he wonders why he bothers getting Barton to submit reports anyone.

Stark ruined his musings with his comment of, "I already have clearance for both." Sounding ever so proud of himself, he added, "Got it from the pirate up top."

Phil sighed. "Where were you thinking of going?"

Tony shrugged, suddenly appearing to be a little out of his depth, "Out. Somewhere nice. Park?"

"Sounds great. I could use a break." Phil knew there was no way he could argue with something if Fury had agreed to it. He placed Natasha's report back on the pile and stood, putting on his jacket and following Tony out of the office.

Just inside the door, Tony stopped him and glanced around furtively. Phil, knowing what was probably coming shook his head.

"Not while I'm at work." He pointed out, "There are rules, you know."

"Maybe for you." Tony retorted, "But I am _not_ S.H.E.I.L.D. personnel and am therefore not bound by the same rules you are." He grinned mischievously and leaned in, putting an arm around Phil's neck and kissing him full on the mouth. Phil made a resigned sound and kissed him back, hoping Recruit Truong was on her lunchbreak or something, and hadn't just witnessed the whole scene.


	2. Bruce x Maria

"That's it, carefully, easy does it." Maria cautioned as Bruce stepped warily onto the ice. She reached out a hand to steady him as he wobbled in his hired skates, smiling at him from under her hat. Out on the ice, Claire and Michael, Maria's children, were already whizzing around, seemingly proficient in the confusing and difficult art of ice-skating. Bruce was reduced to holding the rail on the side of the rink for support, wobbling dramatically.

"Whoa!, Careful!" Maria laughed as Bruce nearly fell backwards onto the ice, "Relax." She added, "You're doing great."

Many people would have been confused seeing Maria like this, all friendly and unguarded, being used to knowing her as a disciplined S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and not someone to be messed with, but seeing her outside of work, in jeans and a jacket on an ice-skating rink with her two children and her boyfriend, you saw the real Maria Hill. Saw the mother, the lover, the friend. Someone who was warm and caring and funny. People at S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't get to see that.

Claire whirled past them, laughing her head off. She was followed by her friends from school, a group of girls all aged 13, like her, and all dressed in violent shades of pink and purple. As she went past, Claire waved to her mother and unofficial stepfather, grinning madly. She was having the time of her life.

Bruce stumbled a few steps along, then finally, managed to work up a bit of a glide under his skates. Maria took his hand and tugged him out a little way, just far enough that he wouldn't be able to reach the rail if he needed it to stop himself from falling. This thought immediately made him wobble and almost lose his balance. Maria laughed gently and tugged on his arm, pulling him back upright.

"Don't try so hard." She told him, "Just relax into it."

"I'm trying not to try." He shot back gently, "Not as easy at is looks- agh!"

Michael, cackling madly, shot past them at high speed, grabbing Bruce's jacket on the way and toppling him. Bruce sat on his backside on the ice and looked ruefully after the nine-year-old, who had turned his over energetic attentions towards Claire and her gaggle of friends and was trying to unbalance as many of them as possible. All Bruce could see of him was a streak of colour the represented the little boy who was clad in an Ironman jacket and wooly hat. Maria called after him to come back and apologise, but he ignored her, still laughing.

"I'm sorry." She offered Bruce a hand up, "I should have warned you. Michael like to wreak havoc on the ice."

Bruce took her hand and stood, still wobbling a little. He smiled, "Well," He pointed out, "I'll just have to learn to skate to get revenge then, won't i?"

Over the next hour or so, Maria taught Bruce the basics of ice skating, and he was soon able to make a full circuit of the rink without wobbling or grabbing for a rail even once. Maria leant against the barrier and smiled at him as he slid to a stop next to her.

"Hey." He greeted her.

"Hey yourself." She smiled back, leaning over to kiss him quickly.

"Gross!" Claire shouted on her way past. She was now pursuing Michael, although her brother looked like he might be just a little too quick for her.

"You'll enjoy it one day!" called Maria, a laugh in her voice. Claire made a disgusted face.

Maria leant back on the railing, allowing Bruce to put an arm around her waist. She rested against his side, watching the activity on the ice rink. Claire still hadn't caught Michael, who had just careened through a group of older, inexperienced skaters, a few of who fell over in surprise at the cackling little boy shooting through their midst.

"Coffee?" Maria asked Bruce, "The café here lets you wear your skates in."

"Sounds brilliant." Bruce agreed, and they made their way off the rink together, hand in hand like a pair of teenagers.

The flooring outside the rink was made of a tough, rubberised material, and their skates dug into it, meaning they had to step carefully to avoid getting a blade caught and toppling over. They passed by the second rink, where a practice ice hockey match was being played, and entered the rink's small café. It was a cheerful little place, decorated with pictures of ice skaters, and a mural on one wall of penguins ice skating wearing hates and scarves. In here too, the flor was rubberised to cater for the skaters, so they were able to leave their skates on while they looked for somewhere to sit down and have something warm to drink.

Finding a table wasn't difficult, they claimed one near the transparent window, looking out at the rink to keep an eye on Claire and Michael. Maria sipped a skinny latte with a caramel shot ("You know, the caramel makes the skinny part redundant" Bruce pointed out) and Bruce had to admit, the white chocolate mocha that Maria ordered for him was really quite nice.

Maria stretched her legs out under the table and smiled across at Bruce. She liked seeing him like this, all relaxed and happy. He spend too much of him time full of tension, trying to keep a lid on the incredible anger he was capable of releasing. She knew what he could do if he had to, had seen the Hulk in action, and sometimes she was a little afraid. But now, across the table from her in the café, he looked like anyone else might; cheeks flushed a little pink from the exercise of skating, hair a bit of a mess and foam from the coffee caught on the corner of his mouth.

Maria was tempted to lean across the table and kiss the foam away. So she did.


End file.
